


I Got No Time For Livin' (Yeah) I'm Workin' All the Time

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-12
Updated: 2007-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Being a CPA sure is hard work. Unless you get to fuck your boss. Um...pretty much PWP. Sorry about that! *laughs*





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** I Got No Time For Livin’ (Yeah) I’m Workin’ All the Time.  
**Rating:** NC17  
**Beta:** Although I'm sure this will surprise NO ONE, props go to [ ](http://technosage.livejournal.com/profile)[**technosage**](http://technosage.livejournal.com/) for being a kickass handholder.  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Warnings:** Teeny-tiny maybe crack at Wentworth Miller. But done with love! Kinda.  
**Word count:** 1, 864  
**Summary:** Being a CPA sure is hard work. Unless you get to fuck your boss. Um…pretty much PWP. Sorry about that! *laughs*  
**Notes:** Written for [ ](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/)**veronamay** because she asked, and because I ♥ my Selbaby like apple tarts.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

**I Got No Time For Livin’ (Yeah) I’m Workin’ All the Time  
By keepaofthecheez**

  
  
  
Three brisk knocks against solid oak precede the way-too-fucking-cheery greeting of “Hey, how’s it going in here?”  
  
Jared looks up from beneath black frames, finds Jensen standing at the door all easy smile, perfect polish. Out of habit his gaze skims from sun-tipped brown hair, down starched linen stretched across developed muscle, to gleaming leather. His jaw twitches.  
  
“Just finishing up the Robinson account,” he answers, eyes returning to the computer screen and fingers clacking across the keyboard. Numbers flash through his head, bubble on the tip of his tongue, and as nice as his supervisor is to look at, Jensen’s not gonna get his work done for him. He pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and steadily avoids looking toward the door.  
  
“You know it’s after seven-thirty.” Jensen’s voice is lazy and amused, and Jared wishes he’d had his pants tailored a little looser. “I’ve heard of devotion to your practice, but…”  
  
“What’re you doing here, then?” Jared blurts out, giving up and meeting Jensen’s gaze as he reaches to pull off his glasses. Rub tired eyes and lean back in his chair. “Sorry, sir, I just…”  
  
“Long day?” Jensen’s voice has thickened with sympathy and some other, more intriguing emotion as he rounds the desk, elegant fingers sweeping across the cherry finish.   
  
Jared flashes hot beneath his pinstripes, and barely refrains from reaching up to loosen the sudden stranglehold of his tie. “Yeah,” he croaks out instead, meeting those liquid green eyes with challenge burning in his own.  
  
His chair lets out a quiet creak when he leans back, spreading his legs wide and tapping a knee with his fingertips. And maybe he’s just too fucking exhausted, or maybe just plain dumb, but they’ve been doing this dance for too damn long. “Why, you planning to do something about it?”  
  
Jensen steps up into the space between Jared’s thighs, a slight grin on his face. “Morale boost.”  
  
Jared can smell him now, can practically fucking _taste_ the soap and cologne flavoring that honey-toned skin. He’s staring up at Jensen from under his lashes, watching pink tongue come out to swipe across slutty, pouty lips.  
  
He’s just closing his legs in a trap when Jensen goes to his knees with a quicksilver grin, palms and shoulders forcing Jared’s thighs wider. “Can’t have our consultants wandering around looking like we don’t treat them right,” he drawls, slow-sexy and filthy, already thumbing along Jared’s inseam. “Bad for business.”  
  
Jared catches his bottom lip with his teeth, lids falling half-closed as he imagines that pink mouth wrapped tight around his cock. He’s got a pretty damn good imagination. “So, you’re, uh,” he stutters when Jensen reaches up. “You’re doing this to _ah_ \--”  
  
“To ensure employee satisfaction.” Blunt fingertips skim his lower belly, working on button after button while Jensen leans forward to chase each newly revealed inch of flesh with his lips. When sharp teeth take hold of short hairs and tug, Jared’s hips lurch.  
  
“Je-esus.” The twang he spends so much time trying to tame is out in full force, rounding his vowels and slurring his consonants. He drops a heavy hand on Jensen’s head, fingers curling tight in soft hair. “Don’t tease me.”  
  
Jensen’s laugh is dark with promise, breath warm against naked stomach. “It’s only teasing if I don’t follow through,” he says, tonguing Jared’s navel. “And I fully plan on sucking your dick until you give in and fuck me against this disgrace of a desk.”  
  
Jared’s groan gets lost in the dull roar of blood in his ears, the rush of breath from between parted lips as he stares down at Jensen’s shiny-slick mouth and cusses. He hears metal teeth being dragged apart, _sees_ Jensen reach in and pull him out from the slit in his briefs, and slides down a few inches in his chair.  
  
“How we doin’?” Jensen’s gazing up at him with blown pupils ringed green-gold around the edges. He strokes Jared from root to tip, squeezing and twisting his wrist. Jared manages a sort of whimper in response, and Jensen’s lips curve. “That’s real good,” he purrs, and then lowers his head.  
  
That first touch of Jensen’s mouth to his cock has a litany of oaths burning across Jared’s lips, and he thrusts up into wet warmth and clutches silky-soft strands. “Fuck.” His eyes go to the glowing computer screen, to the figures still blinking at him, and then back to the image of his supervisor on his knees, cheeks hollowed, mouth stretched wide around his dick.  
  
Jensen’s got his hands on Jared’s hips, thumbs rolling in languid circles, and Jared loses control of the filter on his mouth: “Harder, suck it deeper, no no don’t stop, keep… _yeah_ , there. Jesus Christ, your fucking _mouth_ …”  
  
Jensen pulls off with a dirty _pop_ of gums and tongue, licking salt-slick from his lips. His face is flushed and aroused, and Jared can only stare as Jensen comes to his feet, jerking at his belt and shoving perfectly tailored slacks to his ankles. The hard line of Jensen’s cock flares out at him, and Jared finds himself leaning forward to touch, even as Jensen shakes his head with taunting grin and eyes.  
  
“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. “And get them good and wet for me.”  
  
It doesn’t take a degree in business finance for Jared to figure it out, and he’s got a mouthful of fingers and a lapful of Jensen before he can blink. Jensen’s riding the length of his thigh, whispering suggestions into his ear - _“reach down, between my legs, that’s it”_ \- and then Jared’s circling Jensen’s hole with those spit-slick fingers. He chokes, sucking in through his teeth as Jensen shifts and then. Then.  
  
“God, so fucking tight.” His voice sounds scratchy and rough from abuse; he watches Jensen chew his lips and pant as he rises up on the tips of his toes and sinks down again, driving Jared’s fingers deeper. “Jensen…Jen… _shit!_ ”  
  
“Still too tight,” Jensen’s saying, winded and thready, neck rolling. “Open me more, you’re fucking huge.”  
  
The sound that comes out of Jared at that, he’ll never admit to. He’s got one arm wrapped around Jensen’s waist, the other buried deep in tender flesh as he scissors his fingers wide and feels Jensen gasp and clench. “Now?” he whines, mouthing after a bead of sweat collecting right at the base of Jensen’s throat.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Jensen’s hands push at Jared’s shirt, thrusting it wide open before he takes hold of the knot in his tie and jerks. “On the desk. Fuck my ass, Padalecki.”  
  
“You got it, _sir_.” Jared’s forcing out breath after breath, pulling his fingers free as he takes Jensen by the waist and shoves him up – hard – against his desk. Jensen yanks the tie, bringing Jared down in a clash of mouths and tongue, teeth clacking and groans punctuating the sharp sounds of books and pens falling to the ground.  
  
Jensen’s thighs are tight around his waist, his throat bared and straining. “Do it,” he growls the order, sounding every inch Jared’s immediate superior with or without his ass tilted for Jared to slam his dick right inside. “Do it or I’ll give you the Branson account.”  
  
Jared shudders, and he’s not sure if it’s from the threat or the fact that he’s currently riding the crease of Jensen’s ass. “Fuck you,” he slurs, then presses forward. He’s stretched Jensen enough to get in without much effort, but has to stop anyway when Jen clamps down tight around him.  
  
“S’the idea. Oh, Christ…you’re not playing around with that thing, are you?” Jensen laughs low in his throat, even if it sounds strained and breathless. “Goddamn.”  
  
“How,” Jared stops and swallows, shifting for better leverage as he pulls Jensen down closer to the edge of the desk. “How do you want it?”  
  
“Hard.” Jensen pulls on his tie again, licking the shell of Jared’s ear until he gives a shivery moan. “Fast.” His voice is pitched to a near whisper, thick and husky. “ _Now_.”  
  
Jared snaps his hips, hears the satisfying crunch of wood against tile as he fucks into Jensen until they’re both biting back breathless pleas. Jensen slaps both hands out to his sides, fingers brushing at whatever’s in his way, then curling into the desktop as he tilts his hips and grunts. Jared wants to shove him back flat, watch that muscled chest rise and fall with each panting groan, and push Jensen’s legs up to his ears.   
  
If only he had a bigger fucking desk.  
  
He swivels his hips and Jensen lets out a cry that makes him damn grateful to know they’re the only two left in the office. Although it’s possible the janitor’s getting an earful right now, and really, why the fuck is he thinking about crazy Wentworth with the weird pine-sol smell when he’s got Jensen Ackles naked and practically spread out across his spreadsheets?  
  
“Who?” Jensen asks, sounding a little irritated, and Jared blinks. _Shit, did I say that out loud?_  
  
In response, he reaches between them and jerks Jensen’s cock in firm, short strokes – watches the flesh go angry-red as Jensen’s color climbs everywhere else, as well. “K-Keep fucking me,” Jensen groans, and Jared digs fingershaped bruises into lean hips. “Oh, _fuck me._ ”  
  
Warm salt splashes against Jared’s fingers, and he grits his teeth and hisses as Jensen bucks into his fist and comes all around him. It’s probably the most beautiful thing Jared’s ever seen, and he’s seen the postcard Hawaiian sunset twice in his life.  
  
He barely manages to pull out, knees trembling with the slick-slide, and curls his fingers around his own cock before it pulses, shooting wet heat across Jensen’s belly. Jensen’s sighing and vibrating under him, licking his swollen mouth, eyes lidded and gleaming. “Nice,” he murmurs, holding Jared’s gaze as he reaches down and rubs the creaminess into his skin. “Now get off me, I need a smoke.”  
  
Jared blinks, stepping back and letting Jensen’s legs drop to the ground. He catches the slight wince, another wave of heat settling deep in his bones as he spies the swollen, stretched flesh before Jensen starts straightening his clothes. “I thought there was no smoking in the office.” He smirks only a little when Jensen glances his way again.  
  
“Does that mean you’re not gonna join me?” he drawls, lips tipping into a smile at the edges as he opens the bottom drawer of Jared’s desk, going straight for the hidden pack of Reds. Jared scratches the back of his neck, smiling a bit and taking the offerred cigarette between two fingers.  
  
“More morale boosting?” He leans in so Jensen can light the end, breathing in and back out, lashes fluttering with the smoky-sweet flavor on his tongue.  
  
“More like…satisfying a vice.” Those white teeth flash, and Jared takes another drag and wonders just what the hell he’s gotten himself into when Jensen comes closer, stroking down the line of Jared’s cheek. “And maybe after, I’ll let you satisfy one of yours. Again.”  
  
Jared licks his teeth and hopes his desk really is as sturdy as advertised.


End file.
